


Spark

by Ceremonialbones



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Arson, Eventual Smut, F/M, Kidnapping, M/M, Magic, Russian Language Abuse, Sparks, Supernatural - Freeform, Violence, Werewolves, mild course language, tags are subject to change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-17
Updated: 2013-07-17
Packaged: 2017-12-20 11:39:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/886833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ceremonialbones/pseuds/Ceremonialbones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek feels lousy. The boy is helpless, tears in his eyes and looking exhausted. He lifts himself and the boy up, off the ground, sighing.<br/>“Pomogi mne.” He begs, latching on to the wolfs’ forearm. He looks him in the eye, holding his gaze. The guard is closer now. He shoots Derek a look of utter distress. “Pozhaluysta... Pomogi mne.”</p><p>He can't resist...</p><p>A Spark and a Wolf.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spark

**Author's Note:**

> The original Prompt for this was a Teen Wolf rendition of Luc Besson's the Fifth Element.  
> Stiles as Leeloo, the Spazzy Alien that never shuts up and Derek as Korben Dallas, a former major of the special forces. And together they then save the world by combining the five elements; wind, water, fire, earth and the cliche love. 
> 
> Instead, I've taken out the Scifi and replaced it with the supernatural and change the script.... so no, no five elements.
> 
> This has not been Beta'd and tags are subject to change.... Also, the language that Stiles' speaks is the "English translation" of some Russian. I don't advise that you translate it. It's nothing offensive, I just couldn't be bothered to make up a language. So yeah, No one speaks Russian apparently in this land...

He wakes, eyes darting rapidly around him, wondering if he’s escaped the nightmare or if this peace is all an illusion. He has the same dream night after night, haunting him. He hears birds in the trees above, signing and chirping to the new morning. Forest animals dart around him, never venturing to close, lest they be eaten. There is a stream not far from his camp that he’ll wash in later. But he did not move.  
Breathing in deeply, he rubs his hands over his face, calloused fingers catching his stubble and then combing through his dark tresses. He rolls his shoulders as he sits up, to ease the kinks out and stretch his muscles. The wolf never sleeps well away from his pack. Sitting for a moment longer the wolf pulls himself into action. There was much had had to do.

 

“Open it. I want to see my quarry.” An aged man ordered. He walked with purpose in his step, beside him are his children. His son, a man of his own right with a wife and child, to his left and his daughter, a woman of great attraction, but as cold as a snake to his right. In front of them, the guards open the double doors to reveal room enclosing a cage. A cage that; enclosed a young man. Naked and upset, knees to his chest to hide himself, situated in the corner of the enclosed space. The elder man stands there amused. Not quite the vision he had of such a divine being. But, he supposed, the boy will have to do. 

He closes the distance between himself and the cage. “And, how are we today?” He has a smug smile on his face. One the boy dose not appreciate it. The man makes a ‘tsk’ and scratches on the metal panelling of the cage. “Not very talkative are we?” He hums in dissatisfaction. He bends down. Getting eye level with the boy, “There is more than one way I can get you to talk boy. To stop any of the more… painful methods, all you have to do is talk.”

Looking up, furrowed honey brown eyes meets the old mans and he leans forward. “Chto vy khotite, to, chto ya ne dam tebe, nikogda.” He says quietly.  
The man sits there, waiting a moment more before exhaling a sigh. Once more he looks at the boy, the smug smile wiped from his face replaced by a calm aggravation. He warns him, “You’re tiring my patience, boy.” He stands, turning around, to ignore the glint of appraisal in his daughter’s eyes of the boy and his sons’ reluctance to acknowledge the situation. “Kate, come with me. Chris, I want something… suitable for our guest of honor to wear.” 

Acknowledging his father’s request, Chris nods. He leaves sister and father as they depart the room as well, going in a different direction to them. When he returns the boy is still curled in the corner of the enclosure, head upon his knees, shaking from the cold in the room. He thinks the kid is probably no older than his own daughter, if not the same age. He’s someone’s kid.  
The clothes in his hands, if you could call them that, consisted more of barley there pieces of fabric. Had the kid even showered? No doubt since he’d been brought here, he’s only seen the inside of the cage let alone bathing area. He didn't like his father’s plan, or the way he goes about executing them. He’s alone in the room with the boy. 

 

Derek had reached town by the mid morning sun. His heavy coat billowed behind him, the outer layer of fur damp from the morning dew, but inside, the warmth kept the chill from skin. The sun was high in the sky, but the chill of winter was present. 

The folk, all went about their business, fish mongers here an apple cart there, merchants all selling and buying wares and various produce. The wolf avoided the main market square; where the people were the rowdiest. The smells overpowering, people bumping and pushing each other, all with different destinations in mind, with purpose to be there. The wolf didn't have to be there though. So he saw no reason to go. Instead, he wound his way through the back streets and smaller vendors, hoping to not encounter any unnecessary trouble. 

Fate seems not to be on his side. 

He turns right between two houses when a raised dagger, brandished by a nervous muggers, points right into his face. “Your gold, give me all your gold!”

He gives his wannabe mugger a deadpan expression. “Been here long?”

This doesn't please the man. “Don’t fuck with me or I’ll slit you’re throat!” His hand shakes and he shifts his feet. The man is sweaty. 

Unperturbed, Derek studies the weapon. “That won’t do much against me.” He speaks. “I mean, on a normal person, you could kill them…” he grabs the man’s wrist in a vice grip with his left hand and snaps it to the side, making him cry out. With his right he pins the man by his throat against the wall of one of the house. He leans in and bares his fangs. “You could hurt someone with that. Maybe even kill. Do you think you could live with that?” he asks. “Knowing you killed someone?”

He smells the acidic fear coming from the man, pulling back from the wall, he lets him go. The man falls to the floor and then quickly scampers away. Derek shrugs, picking up the dagger. Once again he studies it. It’s not so bad, so he keeps it. He exits the alley onto the main street and leaves the town without getting into anymore trouble. The locals either weren’t aware or simple didn’t care.

He didn’t.

 

Chris leads the boy though a series of corridors, looking for an easy way-out, without being seen. Nobody knows the boy is gone yet, and he’d like for him to be out before anyone can do anything. Chris knows the best way for the boy to leave is through the forest. He’d be able to lose any guards should they follow him but he had to get him out the gate without raising the alarm.  
“Spasibo vam za pomoshch'.” The boy says softly. Chris nods. And he just hopes that the boy is thanking him. 

So Chris speaks. “I have a daughter. Her name is Allison.” He looks over the boys clothing, sighing he continues. “I don’t want her to have this life. I never had a choice and my sister… I would do anything for my little girl’s safety. Any father would for their child.”

A squad of guards appear in front of them, down the end of the corridor; Chris pushes stiles behind him, “Keep your head down.” Doing as he’s told the boy bows his head. The guards pass and Chris is quick to move him down the passage way. Bare feet pad along behind him. 

“I’m sure your father is looking for you.” He says, opening a door and pulling the boy out behind him. There outside now, no guards in the area, the make there way to a side gate by the second entrance of the castle. Opening the barrier he pushes the boy through. “Walk along the side of the wall, until you reach the forest. Don’t use the trail. Try and make it to the town if you can and here…” he pulls a purse from his belt and shrugs off his brown coat. “Take these.” With that he shuts the wooden door.

The boy follows the elder mans instructions. He puts the coat on and pulls the hood over his head. It hides his exposed flesh to his calves and… it’s warm. He follows the wall around the castle; it leads to a heavily forested area with tall trees towering over the guard’s towers and shrubs lining the brick work. Walking forward he’s absent minded as he feels the branches pull at his coat. He doesn’t leave it till he can’t see where the trial begins and then darts in unfazed by the steadily fading light. High above, a guard spots him calling for his intentions when he does not answer, the man signals for a squad to retrieve him. He’s ordered to stay where he is; two archers with their bows notched take aim and the boy runs, through the safety of the trees. Behind him a gate opens and a group follows in pursuit. Arrows hit the ground where he used to be.

Running feels good for his cramped legs, and it’s freeing having the wind wisp past his ears, the hood having fallen sometime ago. He’s free, liberated. Calm. But he can hear his pursuers coming after him and runs faster, he comes upon a clearing quiet suddenly; he doesn’t expect to hit the wall of muscle that appeared before him. He goes down.

 

Derek doesn’t expect to suddenly have a body slamming into him, so he doesn’t brace himself not to fall. When he crashes to the ground with a lithe body atop of him, his breath is momentarily taken away. He realizes with a sharp realization that he’s holding onto the figure and that they are barely clothed. He can feel the exposed skin beneath his finger tips clearly where fabric should be under the cloak. He feels a quick pang of sympathy for them, the weather is cold this time of year and they’re wearing barely anything. He looks to where his attacker is perched upon him; the boy is a bit dazed and shaken. There’s a small scratch on his cheek and Derek is stunned, the boy is beautiful. He doesn’t think his lungs are working anymore. 

“Akh, mne ochen’ zhal’.”

The wolf shakes his head, he isn't sure that what the boy spoke could be a language or just gibberish. “…Excuse me?”  
The Boy doesn't get to answer though as six guards come barreling from the safety of the forest, the wolf sees their swords, pointed and ready. Oh does he see their swords. The kid is shaking now. “By order of the King,” the wolf growls low in his throat at this. “You are hereby ordered to hand him over!”

He looks between the boy, shaking and barely clothed, to the guards, swords drawn and stances at the ready. “Sorry, kid.” The boy pitches forward, “I can’t get into trouble, and I’ve got places to be.” One of the men draws closer and pulls out a length of rope from their belt. Derek feels lousy. The boy is helpless, tears in his eyes and looking exhausted. He lifts himself and the boy up, off the ground, sighing. 

“Pomogi mne.” He begs, latching on to the wolfs’ forearm. He looks him in the eye, holding his gaze. The guard is closer now. He shoots Derek a look of utter distress. “Pozhaluysta... Pomogi mne.”

He can’t resist his eyes. 

“Don’t put me in this position… I can’t… I’m late as it is…” but he can’t say no to the boys’ large honey brown eyes. “Peter’s going to kill me.” In one swift motion he pushes the boy behind him, lunging for the closest guard. His claws extended he slashes the man’s throat. One man cries out in rage and charges Derek, intent on stabbing him with his blade. Two others join to attack him. While the man with the rope rushes the boy, another behind him. 

Derek tears into the abdomen of the man trying to slash him, blood gushes onto the ground as the guard falls. He dodges the swing of another and ducks the second, kicking the legs out from under them. The third man aims for his head, but Derek moves left of his swing and kicks him in the gut. Before either of the fallen men get up he slashes their throats also.  
He looks up to see the boy fend off the man with the rope and push him into the sword of his friend startling them both and pulls the wounded mans sword from his sheath and stabbing it into the second mans gut. Derek darts forward and grabs the boy’s wrist pulling him away from the area and darting into the other side of the clearing.  
There were more approaching. 

“What did you do?” he all but yells back at the boy.

The boy glared at him indignantly. “Chto ya sdelal, chto zhe mne delat’? YA khotel zhit’, chto eto, chto ya, chto ya sdelal! Vy mogli by sdelat’ to samoye, yesli oni sobiralis’ prinesti v zhertvu vy kakoy -to demon Boga!” Derek hadn’t expected the slew of words angrily hissed at him. It caught him off guard and he stumbled. Feeling like an ass for asking. The harsh tone of the language made him uncomfortable.

“…Stupid question, I get it.” He mumbled. The boy huffs.

“Come on, there’s a place we can hide not too far from here. They won’t find us. I promise.” The boy nodded and they picked up speed, darting behind bushes and in-between boulders and trees until the wolf pushed the boy into an alcove hidden from sight. The entrance was covered, little light came in but Derek could see fine. He could see that the boy was dressed in robes not meant to cover much but the bare essentials. The boys cloak really did nothing for him. He unclasped his heavy fur lined coat and dragged the boy into his side and slung his arm around his back. Covering him, he was cold. The wolf motioned for silence, tightening his hold on the boy and pushing back into the alcove. 

It takes longer than he expected. For the guards to come. He hears the stumble of movement, the harsh breathing and nonplussed curses's of irritation. But they're gone as quickly as they came. Their movement is hurried. Going in what he assumes is the direction they came. Their doubling back, to see if they over looked anything no doubt. He's satisfied that they won't be found. thought just in case, Derek keeps them there a little longer, should he have suddenly lost both his hearing and sense of smell. 

The boy is restless against his side, he fidgets slightly, knees knocking together as he’s crouched down with them pulled to his chest. Derek has to put a hand on one to cease the movement. The boy’s eyes search him then. The wolf feels breathless again.

“Chto vy dumayete?” he whispers.

The wolf is still looking at his eyes, drawn in by their depth. He moves closer, crowding the boy, now staring at his lips. 

“Ey…” the boy starts, eyes darting from Derek’s own lips to his eyes and back again. “Ne to chotby ya ne pol’shchen I vse, no eto svoyego roda tesnoye I vy gor yachiy I vse, no ya tol’ko chto vstretil vas I ya khochu vyyti otsyuda, poka ya teryayu chuvsto le moim nogam.”

Gritting his teeth in irritation, Derek frowns. “What?”

**Author's Note:**

> I cant seem to enter in paragraph dividers... can someone help me on that?


End file.
